A Soliloquy on Abraham, Grace, and the Whisper of the Spirit
I remember standing in the courtroom beside him.
He had already told me the truth that morning outside my office. The confession came quietly, almost as a relief. “I did it,” he said. “I’m guilty.” And he was.
The campus was buzzing for days. One of their own—a student leader, respected, admired—had been caught selling drugs off campus. It was the kind of story that spreads like wildfire in a small community. But that morning there was no defense left. Only truth.
So when the hearing came later that day, I stood beside him. When the judge asked questions, he answered honestly. When it was my turn to speak, I did not try to erase the obvious. I did not attempt to polish the facts into something more flattering. Yes, he was guilty.
But as I stood there beside him, another sentence formed inside me. A deeper grammar than the courtroom allowed. Guilt does not get the final word. There is a kind of grammar in the kingdom of God that our world rarely understands. In ordinary language we might call it a compound modifier—two truths standing together without canceling each other.
- He was guilty.
- And he was still—still, a child of God.
I have come to believe that the entire Christian life unfolds inside that strange grammar. Read More
